


honorthyfatherandthymother

by ChloShow (orphan_account)



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Childhood, Gen, Intrusive Thoughts, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:59:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mac's never questioned God's existence before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honorthyfatherandthymother

He’s not supposed to question God because that’s a sin, and when he asks questions about why he’s gotta sit and stand and sit and say certain words, his mom grunts, which he interprets as, “Because you have to.”

It doesn’t matter what the rules are ‘cause they’re the rules, and there doesn’t have to be a reason behind them. Being Catholic is like a job: the more hours you put in, the quicker you get to Heaven. Except he’s never had a job, so he doesn’t know _exactly_ how the hour thing works but he knows you don’t talk back to the boss.

Saturday and he’s loitering at Sears with Charlie. They’re hiding from the manager who’d just asked where their parents were, scrunched up inside a circular rack of stylish power suits stretching to the ground, covering their feet. Barely breathing, Mac listens for footsteps but only hears a sluggish song creeping out over the store’s speakers, _‘Imagine there’s no Heaven. It’s easy if you try…’_

His throat clamps shut, unable to talk. The words sink in further.

‘ _No Heaven?_ ’’

He feels sick, not like any sick he’s ever felt. Not like ‘throwing up after sneaking some of his mom’s whiskey’ sick. More like ‘somebody flipped him inside out and dipped him in lemon juice’ sick.

“Hey, Mac, I think the coast is clear. Let’s go,” Charlie slides back the hangers, emerging from his polyester hideout, crouching for stealth despite the fact he’s only 4’2”.

Mac’s frozen, wide-eyed in shock and terror.

‘ _No Heaven?’_

***

When he tries to explain to Charlie what he’d heard, it just makes matters worse.

“Heaven doesn’t exist, dude. That’s just like an old wives’ tail,” he throws Mac’s Raggedy Andy to the ground and pounds it with a Captain Caveman bat.

“Heaven is _not_ an old wives’ tale, Charlie. It’s real, and you have to go to church and pray to God and confess your sins in order to get there when you die,” Mac agonizes.

“I’m not even sure that I’m _gonna_ die, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“We all die, Charlie! And if you don’t believe in Heaven, then you’re going to Hell!”

“Whatever, dude. Hey, let’s go see if we can find some matches. I wanna cook this doll alive like it’s our prisoner.”

***

Two hours later and Mac’s Raggedy Andy sits charred in a pot, abandoned in an alleyway while Mac pulls out the matching Raggedy Ann from his closet. He picks at the clumped red hair of his mom’s childhood toy. The doll’s so worn that it wouldn’t take much force to…

He lies on his bed, dazed and gripping the headless body of the Raggedy Ann doll. Cotton litters the floor. Both tiny cloth arms are lost to the corners of his room, and the head rests in the middle of the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He’s not sure why he did it. She was his mom’s toy. Why would he destroy his _mom’s_ toy?

The reality of the situation dawns on him, and a couple sobs squeak out from his disgusted face. He spins _‘Honor thy father and thy mother’_ around his head like when he found out his dad was going to prison, breathing the words in a low voice until the phrase loses its meaning. Behind all this, the sharp, acidic feeling from earlier returns with full force. Two words loop under his tongue as he smushes Ann’s torso to his face.

_No Heaven. No Heaven. No Heaven._

**Author's Note:**

> "wives' tail" isn't a typo btw, Charlie's vocabulary is rife with malaprops


End file.
